Silver Guilt (7 page)

‘My child, where—?'

‘I'm heading out to the caravan.'

‘My dear one, you'll come home now, where you belong.'

‘No, it's too late now. I'll tell you all about it in the morning.' I cut the call and turned off the mobile. So the trundle of the case wheels wouldn't give me away, I picked it up and carried it. There was a short cut across the field, and though even I wouldn't normally risk it at this time of night, it was one way of making sure Griff couldn't chase after me.

Any time I went to school I was told I wasn't very bright, and by the time I got to the caravan I was ready to believe it. There was bloody Aidan's car, waiting for me. In fact Aidan reached me first, seizing the case and wrapping me in a blanket. He even pressed a hip flask into my hand – the one I'd given to him last Christmas, as it happened. I didn't really do spirits, and it had always amazed me how actors on TV could swig a whole glass without choking. Then Griff explained it wasn't really whisky, of course. Aidan's was. And even though everything was so awful I couldn't stop laughing.

‘Not let you into the house? Dear me, what on earth did Nella think she was doing?' Aidan asked, dabbing his hand on the living room radiator to make sure it was giving enough heat. Dissatisfied, he threw another log on the fire. Griff had left him in charge while he busied himself in the kitchen.

I'd had enough time on the train to work out my own theory about that, something to do with the handsome man she'd had lunch with, but I could hardly put that forward as an explanation. I huddled more deeply into my bathrobe and shook my head. ‘Actually, she was right to sack me.' It was the conclusion I'd made myself come to on the way home. Before that I'd have torn her hair out, given a chance. Not just for what she'd done, but because if Aidan had believed her and Griff had believed Aidan . . . I swallowed hard and lifted my chin. ‘I know Griff always says there's no such thing as bad publicity, but a couple of plods descending on you in the middle of a show like that – well, it'd be bad enough at the fairs we do, but sac . . . sacri—?'

‘Sacrilege?' Aidan prompted.

‘Yes – sacrilege at a LAPADA one. It's a shame I lost that book on silver, though.'

‘And deeply ironic that you, having been accused of theft, should be the victim of it.'

‘I was never accused of theft. Only handling stolen goods. Just as bad for Nella's reputation.' But I suddenly found I didn't care very much. What did worry me was more important. Tim. ‘Do you think he'll recover?' Being stuffed wet into the corner of my case had left him very bent and matted. I took him from the radiator where he was drying and squeezed him a bit.

‘I'll buy you a replacement, Lina, by way of apology,' Aidan said, throwing another log on the fire: he was clearly trying to turn the living room into a sauna.

I shook my head and started to cry again. What was it about my bear that turned on my waterworks?

Clearly miffed, Aidan stalked out, joining Griff in the kitchen. I could hear him exclaiming to Griff about my lack of proportion.

Griff's reply wasn't clear, but he said something about my never having had a bear to call my own – that was why Tim was precious.

Aidan clearly wasn't convinced. ‘But it's worth nothing!'

‘It depends how one assesses value, doesn't it?'

There was a moment's silence. Then Aidan started again. Even though he was upset, he managed to use the sort of words other people never say, only write. ‘What truly worries me, Griff, is that she seems to consider such appalling treatment acceptable. Why isn't she railing and shouting, threatening legal action?'

‘Because she's been treated badly so long she's come to expect it as her due? At least this – ah – incident didn't involve violence.' Suddenly the door shut.

I gave poor Tim's ear another tweak and went back to my nest of blankets on the sofa. People didn't like to know they'd been overheard, did they?

Then they both came back in, Griff carrying a plate of cake and three mugs of hot chocolate on my favourite papier mâché tray. He always made the creamiest hot chocolate in the world if one of us was upset. Putting the tray down, he turned and stroked my hair. ‘Bears are meant to suffer, my sweet one. Let him dry, and a little titivating will bring him back to life. Perhaps a new ribbon . . .'

‘Do you think Elham really did come by that dish honestly?' In trying to change the subject, Aidan put the question Griff would never have asked, out loud, at least.

I pulled a face. ‘Who can tell? He wouldn't go out and nick it from someone else's house. In fact, he couldn't have stolen it when the police said it went missing. But I bet the trustees would kick themselves if they knew half of what he's got in his wing.' Despite all that malt sloshing round inside me I wouldn't say anything about those spliff butts. Not even to Griff.

T
he following day, I overslept, which I absolutely never did. It was well into the morning when I woke, which was only because someone was leaning on the front doorbell.

It was an Interflora delivery. For me. Something that had never happened before in my life. The bunch of flowers was enormous – it filled three vases. According to the note with them, the flowers were from Nella, hoping I'd got home safely and with her apologies for her overhasty actions. ‘Overhasty' was a real Aidan word, so I reserved judgement on who'd actually sent it. Especially as there were no lilies, which he always said were vulgar.

Aidan himself arrived soon after a rather late lunchtime – why he'd bothered going home in the first place I wasn't sure, since he couldn't have left much before three in the morning. However, the reason was soon clear. He was carrying a brand new Steiff teddy bear, complete with limited edition certificate and identity button in its ear. It was large enough to have cost him an arm and a leg. I thanked him and promised to treasure it. Treasuring wasn't the same as loving, though. Tim, looking much better after a good brushing, was safe there.

Griff, who was sure I'd get a cold after all my adventures in the rain, went down with a stinker himself, and had to call Mrs Hatch, who looked after the shop whenever we were both busy.

And late in the afternoon I strolled down the lane to get a signal to phone Titus Oates. I didn't want to use the landline. This was a call I'd rather Griff didn't know about. He always worried about me and my father, and this would only make him fret more.

Titus never bothered being polite. ‘Lord Elham? Who says I'm letting the old bugger do any work for me?' he grunted in response to my very timid question.

‘No one,' I said quickly. ‘But it's possible, if he did just happen to be doing anything for anyone, the fuzz might find out. You know what they're like if they start searching people's places. And if they find things they ask questions.'

‘So why would the filth be poking their ugly noses into Bossingham Hall?'

I quoted back at him his favourite sentence: ‘That's for me to know and you not to bother trying to find out.'

‘That old queer been blabbing when he was pissed?'

‘Griff's drinking habits and sexual orientation are none of your business.' I'd rehearsed that response many times to make sure I got it right. Now I patted myself on the back.

‘Oooh, la-di-da!' When I didn't bother responding, he asked, ‘You're sure the filth'll be paying him a visit?'

‘I can't be sure they won't,' I said in my normal voice. ‘And you know what he's like if people start asking questions.'

‘Depends which end of the champagne bottle he's at. But point taken. Thanks, doll.' He cut the call.

I rocked on my feet. Had Titus Oates really thanked little me? But there was no one around to see my dramatics, so I gave up and nipped into the village Londis, to stock up on blackcurrant juice, Griff's favourite tipple when he was ill. Shaz's face dropped in disappointment as I put the basket by the till and asked for some aspirins, too.

‘Oh, you've just missed him. What a shame.'

‘Him?'

‘This gorgeous bloke. Legs up to here and a bum to die for. Asking for your cottage. He said he'd got something to return to you.'

Last time people had asked Shaz about me she'd been a good deal too generous with her information. She obviously remembered too. ‘I know, I know – but he had your business card, see, and someone else would have told him if I hadn't. And he said he'd got something of yours. And you needed it. So off you go! You might just catch him!' She took my fiver and counted out change.

Not a lot of sleep, no make-up, my gardening anorak and shoes I kept for muddy lanes – did I want anyone to see me like this? Especially a gorgeous bloke?

But it had started to sleet again, and I had to go somewhere, so it might as well be home.

I didn't recognize the silver Peugeot parked behind Aidan's car outside the cottage. But whoever had parked it there would have had his photo taken by our security cameras – one visible, which was meant to warn people off, and one hidden, to take the photo of anyone trying to smash the other.

Letting myself in, I heard Griff being very polite to someone; in my experience that meant not just a young man but a good-looking one. So how would Aidan react to that? I nipped upstairs to run a brush through my hair and to change my shoes and ran back down, to find, drinking tea from Griff's Edwardian Worcester tea service, my would-be saviour of the day before, a bunch of flowers even more massive than Aidan's at his feet. Piers Something. Putting his cup and saucer on the table beside him, he got up politely as I came in and took my hand as if he was afraid of breaking it.

Still standing, he passed me the bouquet – a lot of lilies in this one – and then, almost shamefaced, he reached behind him. He produced the book on silver. ‘It was just lying there between your stand and your neighbour's so I picked it up. I could have asked Lady Petronella to return it, but she was in such a foul mood I thought she'd throw it at me – or even at you. And since you'd left your business card in it, I thought I'd deliver it in person.'

I could see a frown puckering Griff's forehead, and no wonder – we made a point of not having our address on our cards, just our mobile numbers and our website address.

Perhaps Piers saw the frown. He flushed slightly, and said, with a slight bow, ‘I had to do quite a bit of research before I managed to run you to earth.' He smiled at me and Griff equally. He had the most beautiful teeth. ‘It helped that I'd seen you before. At other fairs.' Perhaps I was hoping that such a handsome prince was going to tell me he'd fallen in love with me the moment he'd first seen me. But he didn't. He added, ‘Sometimes I dabble myself.'

I tried to make my face show polite interest. The last few years had taught me that dabbling was not the way to get ahead in the antiques profession. Or even survive. But everything about him suggested a silver spoon – perhaps not as grand as those on Nella's shelves or even in her mouth, but big enough to send him to the public school which had given him his accent. From the size of his shoulders he'd probably played rugby there.

No doubt Griff could see the chip that he swore dented my shoulder doubling in size, so he jumped in. ‘I thought your face was familiar. Now, where did I see you? Was it Shepton Mallet? Or Stafford?'

Piers blushed again. ‘Folkestone? Sutton Valence School? I'm only starting, you see.'

‘Are you local, Piers?' Aidan asked, surprising me. Why should he want to know that?

‘Absolutely. Well, Sevenoaks. And I wondered, Lina,' Piers continued, dragging the conversation back the way he wanted it to go, ‘since you were so very badly treated yesterday – who does that cow think she is? – if—'

‘The cow's my sister,' Aidan said heavily. ‘But she can behave in a pretty bovine manner,' he added with a charming smile. Perhaps he fancied Piers too. ‘I'm sorry. I interrupted.'

‘Not at all. I hope I didn't offend you, sir.'

Sir
? What century was he living in?

‘Not as much as my sister offended poor Lina.' Aidan sounded almost fond of me.

Piers gathered himself together for another attempt. ‘Quite. Which was why I wondered, Lina – I hope this isn't too short notice – I wondered if you would be kind enough to come to dinner with me this evening. It shouldn't be too hard to get a decent table midweek.'

Griff and Aidan produced a matching Tweedledum and Tweedledee smile. Benign, that was the word I wanted. They were all so formal and correct. Perhaps it came with drinking tea and eating little cakes. But what was Piers doing, someone his age, asking me out in front of them?

If only he'd had the tact to email or something. As it was, I couldn't use looking after Griff as an excuse, because Aidan would say he'd do that. And I couldn't say I was ill myself. And why did he suggest dinner? Thanks to Griff I knew my way round menus and cutlery – even at ‘decent tables'. But it was hard to eat and drink and think, let alone talk too.

He was off again. ‘I thought of somewhere like the Nonesuch. I know the name's a bit pretentious, but the food and service are supposed to be excellent.'

Griff said as smoothly as his snuffles would allow, ‘It's all of thirty miles away. How were you proposing to ensure she returns safely? A young man taking a young lady to supper doesn't in my experience wish to stay on the wagon.' When he spoke like this I always wondered which book he'd been reading. Dickens? Jane Austen? Then I thought I detected a tiny wink – was he just winding up Piers to see what happened?

Piers thought quickly on his feet, I'll give him that. ‘Quite. So I thought I could leave the car here, and take a cab there and back. I wouldn't drink very much, and could drive myself back home.'